


Poor Reiner

by Tentaculiferous



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Breastfeeding, Immobility, Lactation Kink, M/M, Male Lactation, Oral Sex, Restricted Movement, Sexual Content, Threesome, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-05
Updated: 2014-02-05
Packaged: 2018-01-11 07:12:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1170177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tentaculiferous/pseuds/Tentaculiferous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the Titan Shifter village, it's not unusual for a shifter to begin producing milk, even if they're not pregnant, or they're male. Reiner experiences this phenomenon for the first time during his time as trainee. Unfortunately, when you're surrounded by a bunch of nosy trainees, it's not easy to keep such a thing secret.</p><p>Word gets out, and in a world where food is scarce and animal products such as meat and dairy are even rarer, almost everyone is determined to get a taste of Reiner's milk—whether he likes it or not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Poor Reiner

**Author's Note:**

> This started as a kink meme fill, but then I kind of uh, lost the prompt :sweatdrop:

It started out as an ordinary day for Reiner. Sleep drifted away into consciousness. Awareness slowly stole onto him, making him aware of the feel of his short hair against the pillow, of his feet, sweaty from being under the blanket in socks all night long, of the gluey feel of his eyelids crusted over from sleep. And the feel of wetness on his chest...wait, wetness? 

He scrambled up out of bed, throwing the covers off and forcing his eyes open. His eyes immediately squinted against the light streaming through the dormitory window, but he didn't need sight to feel the rounded swolleness of his pecs. Reiner did not need to stand up and peer at the tiny cracked mirror that one of the vainer boys had installed on the wall. He could see through his morning-blurred vision that the liquid on his chest wasn't the blood he had expected to see. 

Rather, it was the harmless white of milk, with a slight bluish tint, and it was oozing from his nipples. 

“Ugh.” Reiner muttered, looking disgusted. 

He was not unfamiliar with the phenomenon, but he'd never experienced it himself. What did people do when they were confronted with this problem? He looked over at Bertholdt's bunk, but he was sound asleep. 

While his glance was traveling the room however, he noticed that another of his roommates however, was not. Marco Bott was standing near the pathetic little mirror, hand frozen holding a comb above his hair, staring at him with his mouth open. 

Reiner quickly grabbed his blanket and drew it over his chest, glaring at Marco all the while. With the hand not holding up the patch of fabric maintaining his decency, he grabbed an olive green shirt from the duffel under his bed. Slipping it over his head, he let the blanket fall and stood up, crossing the room until he was in Marco's personal space. 

“What you saw—not a word.” Reiner said vehemently, dismissing his usual aww shucks good guy persona. 

Marco was taken aback. “Uhh sure Reiner. I won't say a word.” He smiled good-naturedly, but was still confused and intrigued. He needed someone to confer with this on this, and telling Jean wasn't really like telling at all—he could trust him. 

With that, he gave a few token swipes of the comb through his black hair, and then left the room. 

Simmering, Reiner went to wake up Bertholdt. Their fourth roommate was gone already so he didn't have to worry about him at least.

* * *

Reiner was appalled at Bertholdt's solutions. They seemed bizarre, and he was sure that Bertholdt, despite not usually being one for humor or pranks, was pulling his leg. 

“Bert, you swear this isn't a joke?” he asked, for the fifteenth time. 

He was holding the cabbage leaves, staring at them with a doubtful, appalled expression.

Bertholdt looked slightly irritated by Reiner's continued disbelief. “I had to steal these from the kitchens. Why would I do that for a joke? I swear this really helps.”

With an expression of greatest trepidation, Reiner placed the cabbage leaves on his chest. 

So he went about his training that day with leaves of cabbage covering his pecs, secured by loosely tied bandages (too tight and it would actually increase his milk production) and a light sage paste. 

Whether it was a result of self-consciousness, the discomfort of his milk-swollen mammaries and of being slathered in paste, cabbage, and bandages, or sheer bad luck, he did not perform well that day at all. 

His performance, not all that bad in his opinion, but starkly contrasting with his usual quality, seemed to enrage Instructor Shadis particularly. Or maybe it had been his mid-air collision with Armin. There hadn't been a trainee-on-trainee mid-air collision in over a year, and while Reiner hadn't came out of it too badly, Armin, much smaller and less robust, had been knocked out. 

Either way, he was sentenced to run an extra two miles after the other trainees were done for the day. Usually the prospect of extra exercise didn't faze him; today it put him even deeper into the already foul mood he was in. He just wanted the day to be over, to eat quickly, get back to his dorm room, imbibe even more stolen sage and replace the wilting cabbage leaves off his chest with fresh ones, sleep and hopefully wake up and find the swelling had gone down and the milk production ceased. 

It seemed it was not to be. After finishing the two miles (cussing Shadis the whole way) he headed to the mess hall. The windows of the low building were open and he could hear a lively chatter. The smell of roasted vegetables and fresh bread wafted out at him. He found himself relaxing a little for the first time since he had woken up in a decidedly milky state. He went in. 

The moment he walked through the door, an unnatural hush fell over the room. Groups of people, previously talking excitedly across the tables to each other, fell silent. Only Christa continued talking, and that was likely because, having her eyes closed, she hadn't seen Reiner.

“God, I haven't had milk in so long.” she was saying, sighing dreamily. Sasha quickly clamped her fingers over her mouth. Christa opened her eyes, startled, and saw Reiner. Judging by her deep red blush (and the disturbingly hungry and heated gaze she gave him) they had unmistakably been talking about him. And his condition. 

He was so, so tempted to turn around on his heel and walk out. But running and hiding accomplished nothing. So he walked over to the table where Bertholdt was sitting (looking slightly angry and closed-off, arms crossed defensively over his chest.) and sat down down next to him, where a tray was waiting for him. Connie had to scooch over to let him sit down, and looking around at their table, Bertholdt realized it was unusually full. Likely they had, knowing of his closeness to Bertholdt, been questioning the man for details. 

Aware of all the eyes on him, Reiner began to eat. As he dunked his bread in the vegetable soup, he was conscious of all of his teammates who were sneaking short, side-long glances at him. Some didn't bother to glance discreetly; they stared openly and boldly at him as he ate. Christa was one of these. The only ones who seemed completely uninterested were Annie (who was familiar with the phenomenon and probably not surprised to hear of it happening to him), Mikasa (who never seemed interested in anything but Eren or Armin) and oddly enough, Ymir.  
The rest made it a dinner of complete and incredibly awkward silence, punctuated by quickly swiveling heads. He was just about ready to break and say something, when someone else did. 

Christa stood up from her position next to Ymir at the table near the entrance, and walked over to him. He eyed her warily, suspicion against this small and sweet creature entering his heart for the first time. 

“Reiner.”

“What is it, Christa?” he asked. 

She took in a deep breath. “I've heard you were making milk, and I was wondering if I could please have some.” 

Even though he had prepared himself for _something_ , he still dropped his spoon in surprise. 

All eyes were on them now. They could have heard a pin drop. Christa stared at him expectantly, her big blue eyes intense and if he admitted it, a little frightening. 

He forced himself to laugh. “I'm not sure what you're talking about, Christa. Almost no one, and certainly not my family, can afford to keep cows anymore.” 

Her stare did not waver. “You know what I'm talking about. I'm not talking about cows.”

He decided to simply cease talking in the hopes that she would give up and go away, but when he tried to resume eating, a small and dainty hand grabbed his, forcing him to turn his attention back to her. 

“You know what I'm talking about Reiner—you're making breast milk.” 

He let out a half-hearted and forced snort. “I assure you, I am doing no such thing. I'm a man, in case you haven't noticed.” 

“Prove it then. Take off your shirt. You're a guy—you should have no problem doing that.” 

Reiner slapped her hand away. He decided he was less infatuated with Christa than he thought. She had a firm side that was entirely too stubborn. 

“I'll do no such thing. I'm not stripping in front of everyone in the dining room.”  
“Not,” he said coolly, “to prove such a bizarre accusation wrong.” 

Christa's eyes narrowed. Faster than he could have ever expected, she reached down and yanked his green shirt up and over his head. 

What was underneath there surprised everyone. 

“Reiner has cabbages for boobs!” Connie shouted. 

“Nice, uh, home-made bra Reiner.” Annie said, cracking up. 

The jig was up. “It's to dry up the milk.” he snarled, snatching his shirt back from Christa's hands.  
Once it was on, he stormed out of the dining room, Bertholdt trailing behind. 

When he was gone, many young and devious heads came together, and began to plot.

* * *

Reiner was living out his fantasy. He had indeed imbibed his disgusting sage portion, replaced his cabbage leaves, and was now snoozing away in his dormitory, awaiting the morning when, if all went as he hoped, he would wake up milk free. 

All did not go as he hoped, though when he did awaken, the feeling of sore pain and pressure was gone. 

It wasn't the leaking milk that woke him up this morning; indeed, there was none on his chest that he could feel. Rather, it was the feel of soft scrabbling hands and a steady, pleasurable sucking sensation on his chest. The occasional brush of teeth on his nipple...?! 

He sat up abruptly; or rather, tried to. The weight of several bodies leaning on him restrained him from doing so. Through bleary eyes he saw two people sprawled over his chest, nuzzling at his nipples, drinking quietly and contently. Their eyes, closed in concentration, opened and blinked up at him as he stirred. Two more people sat on the bed, likely waiting their turn. The fifth was a tall, slim female; Ymir. She was facing away, sitting on his legs. The bitch was heavier than she looked, he thought grumpily. 

Reiner, still partially sleep-dazed but increasing in rage, took one meaty hand and shoved hard at one of the petite blondes drinking from him. The one on the left flew off the bed and onto the floor, crying out with pain. Armin, by the sound of it. He turned to the other blonde, who was still greedily sucking. She'd sped up her efforts, if anything, likely anticipating the end. He began shoving at her as well, but she wasn't as easy to shake off.

“Fucking—parasite—get off!” he snapped.

Christa resolutely held on, however, clinging to the bedclothes as well as his shoulder, milk trickling down her chin and onto his chest from the few times he managed to dislodge her mouth slightly from his enlarged nipple. 

He didn't want to hit her or attack her in any way, despite her part in this awful attack. Yet she wouldn't budge. He struggled to once again free himself from the bed entirely, but the other two (Jean and Eren) shifted their weight harder on him, and Armin was scrambling back up from the floor. 

With five resolute (and heavy) soldiers sitting on him, he was going nowhere. He glared at them. Armin had enough shame left in him to flush and look away, but the others seemed unrepentant. Christa hadn't budged, and Eren and Jean simply watched him with wary attention, more worried about possible escape attempts than any displeasure Reiner felt. 

“You know,” Reiner said, “I would have expected this from _her_ ,” giving a pointed look at Christa, “and her hyena girlfriend, but not you two.” 

Armin, from his spot leaning against Reiner's side (he hadn't resumed drinking, probably fearful of being shoved again or hit), simply looked down at the ground and mumbled something about not wanting to stay short forever. 

Eren frowned at the criticism. 

“Sorry, Reiner, but they voted on this. And you know I couldn't let Armin come in here alone. Look what you did to his face even so.” 

Reiner looked—now that he noticed it, Armin had blood streaming from his nose. Served him right. 

“We should have tied him up.” Ymir noted, from her spot at the back of the bed. 

“We're not tying him up. What if someone walked in? Do you know what it would look like?” Jean said. 

“We tied up Bert though.” Ymir pointed out. 

With a growing sense of horror, Reiner glanced into the corner of the room. How had he not seen him? Bertholdt was lying propped in the corner, tied up, very thoroughly with thick rope and a gag in his mouth. He struggled and made muffled noises as he noticed Reiner's eyes on him. 

“Do you know how much trouble you all will be in? Do you think no one will notice that Bert and I are missing?” 

“We're all on free time. Morning classes were canceled 'cause Instructor Thalberg is on suspended leave.”

“Why?” Reiner asked, intrigued despite the situation he was in.

Ymir smirked, and leaned closer, as if she had a juicy secret for their ears only. 

“Rumor is he was caught with a student.” 

“That is so much bullshit Ymir.” Reiner said.

“Yeah, he's like a million years old.” Eren said. 

Ymir shrugged. “I'm just telling you what I heard.” 

Christa, mercifully in poor Reiner's opinion, abandoned her unending attack on his breasts. Unfortunately, the look on her face was one of sad confusion, rather than satisfaction. She wasn't full.

“Guys, he's ran out.” 

The gossip abruptly stopped. 

“Did you check his other breast?” Jean asked.

He clambered over to Reiner's side to gain access to the breast Armin had been on. He lowered his mouth down and latched on. He was slower and more consistent in his sucking than either Armin or Christa had been. They had been much more eager and less restrained in their efforts. Still, the slow, soft sucking Jean was doing, with his eyes wide open and staring at Reiner the whole time, made his face flush red with embarrassment in a way Christa and Armin hadn't been able to do. Jean was a _guy_ —definitely all male and it made it worse somehow. The lack of real hunger made each swirl of Jean's tongue seem more deliberate, more sexual in intent. 

 

“Well, apparently that one still has milk.” Ymir said. “Don't worry Christa, I know how to get the other one started up again.” 

She had an evil smirk on her face that made Reiner's skin crawl. He could see nothing good coming out of any of Ymir's ideas. 

When she started pulling down his sleep shorts he knew he was right to be worried. Christa averted her eyes, but Eren gave him a look of admiration. Armin blushed up to the roots of his hair. 

Ymir ran her hand down his length. 

“Poor Reiner. No one told him abstaining from sex would help his milk dry up...and luckily for us, the opposite is true.” 

“Ymir.” 

It was all Christa said, but it was loaded with plenty of unspoken sentences. 

“Ehh? Sorry Reiner. I'm spoken for.” Ymir said, taking her hands off Reiner and grabbing hold of Christa and snuggling her. The annoyance disappeared from Christa's face, replaced by a pleased grin.

“Looks like it's up to you boys.” 

“I'm not touching him.” Eren snapped.

“Jean?” Ymir asked.

He just nodded, still attached, to Reiner's breast, and stuck his hand down his own pants. 

“That's....not what I meant. Nevermind.” Ymir sighed. “Looks like it's on you Armin.”

“Me?!” Armin asked, looking alarmed. 

“Yep, you.” she said.

Armin looked at Reiner doubtfully. Seconds passed; Armin in a paralysis of indecision, and Reiner wishing that douchebag Jean would let up nipples. He was already getting uncomfortably hard without any help from Armin or Eren. 

Ymir however, was not going to wait all day, not when her girl wanted milk. 

She wrapped her fingers through Armin's blonde locks of hair, and pushed his face down into Reiner's groin. He let out a muffled gasp that was interrupted by Ymir shoving Reiner's dick into his mouth. Reiner was beginning to care less and less about the indignity he was being submitted to and the injustice of the whole affair. 

That would be, of course, the time when Eren decided to cry foul over it. 

“How fucking dare you—“ 

“Eren, if he doesn't want to do it then he won't. I'm just speeding things along.” Ymir said. 

Apparently, he did want to. He went at Reiner like an old pro, and Reiner made a mental note to hit him up some time in the future. 

Eren shook his head in disgust, and slid off the bed. He headed off.

“You're not going to tell anyone, are you?” Ymir called as he walked out the door. 

A muttered “fuck you all” was the only response Reiner could hear. 

With Eren gone, Jean lying against his side, and Armin nestled between his legs, he had only the weight of Christa and Ymir to contend with. He was considering whether he should shove them off now, or at least get a blowjob out of the ordeal, when Christa went back at his other nipple. It was sore from all the previous action it had seen, but the dull pain of having it tongued somehow magnified the pleasure he was experiencing in the other parts of his body. It was exquisite, having three people focused on him, sucking and working on so many parts of his body. 

It didn't take him long to go over the edge, and a few seconds after he did, he wasn't surprised to feel the milk begin to trickle out of his breast and into Christa's mouth once more. Somehow, he didn't care anymore. Every thought of escape had fled. He just wanted to lie there in bliss for a while with Christa and Jean nursing on him. There would be others, he knew—they couldn't have gotten a vote if those three were the only ones who wanted some of his milk—but the thought was exciting now rather than dismaying. 

“I take it you're less opposed to this little endeavor now?” Ymir asked. 

“Oh, fuck yes.” Reiner said, laughing. 

Somewhere in his lonely corning, Bertholdt let out a muffled shriek of anger. 

They both looked over. 

“You can leave him tied up for a while.” Reiner said, grinning. “Now get the hell off my legs. They're going numb.”

**Author's Note:**

> As always, any feedback, kind or cutting, is loved ♥


End file.
